


my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

by writer_by_the_window



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Badass Katara (Avatar), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), Past Relationship(s), Sexy Times, basically the gay agenda, make your sworn enemies fall in love with you, she deserves it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_by_the_window/pseuds/writer_by_the_window
Summary: Katara’s hand froze over the doorknob. She didn’t know why she was hesitating, didn’t know why she suddenly couldn’t breathe right. Aang had trusted her to do this—he’d trusted her with this before, she could do it again—but this time felt different. A little wrong. Like she didn’t have any business here. Her flask was sickeningly cool against her waist, and sweat beaded on her skin.After all these years, she was finally going to face Azula again.
Relationships: Azula/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko(background) (Avatar), Toph Beifong/Suki(background)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	1. I

Katara’s hand froze over the doorknob. She didn’t know why she was hesitating, didn’t know why she suddenly couldn’t breathe right. Aang had trusted her to do this—he’d trusted her with this before, she could do it again—but this time felt different. A little wrong. Like she didn’t have any business here. Her flask was sickeningly cool against her waist, and sweat beaded on her skin.

After all these years, she was finally going to face Azula again.

The house was a little too ornate, a little too small to look like anything but a cage. Of course, Zuko meant well by putting his sister in this gilded prison; Zuko always meant well. But Zuko also wasn’t here, and Katara was left to pick up the pieces while the lovestruck Fire Lord visited her brother at the South Pole. When Aang had asked her for this, his eyes had shone with emotion and fear, and whether he was afraid for her or of her, she didn’t know. That was why they hadn’t lasted, she thought. He was uncomfortable with the uncertainty of what she might do.

Katara’s stomach curdled at the thought.

Before she took the key from her ring, she knocked on the door. Despite how they’d left things, how the tension built up and up between Katara’s shoulders, she couldn’t help but think that that simple gesture might be a peace offering. Even if Azula was a prisoner, this was her home, and Katara would treat it like any guest would. After a small shuffling noise from inside and a long, pregnant pause, she finally turned the key in the lock, hands trembling as the door swung open.

Silence.

It was the type of calm, cool quiet she had not known since she was a little girl. Since she and Sokka had played with their mother in the dampening muff of a snowdrift.

  
That all-too-familiar rage curled up inside her right alongside the fear, the anticipation. Her nails bit into her palms as she pushed past the doorway and looked around. If she tries anything, you’ll have a way out, she remembered Aang saying. Toph and Sokka rigged this place with traps and little secrets. You’ll have your flask, too.  
As she crept around every corner, Katara didn’t know if she was the prey or the predator. Maybe both. There weren’t any lights on, but the curtains on the windows were open, letting in feeble strands of sunshine. The house-cell was bigger than it looked on the outside, but that didn’t make it any less claustrophobic. Even more frustrating, maybe heartbreaking, were a few signs of a lived-in existence. A rumpled blanket thrown across the sofa. An easel lightly splattered in paint and ink. A pile of letters, two stacks, never sent. One for Zuko, one for Ty Lee.

Katara swallowed.

Putting her under house arrest was the right thing to do. It was the humane thing to do. Of all people, Suki and Iroh had been the ones to disagree with Zuko’s proposition: that Aang let Azula come home to the Fire Nation under house arrest, chains on her ankles, that he take her bending but not her life or her right to live like a real girl. She was a monster, they said. Irredeemable.

But when she had defeated Azula, all she saw was a fourteen-year-old girl, crying and crooked and broken on the ground, and the anguished brother who had struck down his little sister.

 _Yes,_ she’d voted. _Yes._ And she’d been the tiebreaker.

But that wasn’t enough.

Katara found her standing at the bay windows in the back of the house, so still she almost didn’t notice her. She cleared her throat to announce herself, and Azula tilted her head in acknowledgment.

“Your hair has grown,” said Katara, voice dry, cracking.

She wore it down in smooth waves that nearly reached her waist. The only adornment she wore was her old hairpiece; the shine of the gold had dulled to a mere glint. Gone were the royal robes, the jewelry, the glamor—she was just a girl, standing too-small in a plain dress.

Azula’s voice rang out sharp and clear through every crack and crevice of her hollow house.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“How are you?” Katara said, hand on her waterskin.

Azula flicked her wrist.

“Put that thing away,” she drawled. “You won’t need it. Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m not dangerous anymore. Not special.”

Not dangerous. Every time Katara blinked, she could all but see the crack of vicious lightning that had nearly taken Zuko from them—all but feel it. Aang had once surprised her with fireworks for her birthday, promising her the moon and stars, but as the firecrackers burst white-hot in the air, Zuko’s scream echoed in her ears. So did Azula’s anguished wail.

“Before we begin,” Katara said, quiet steel in her voice, “is there anything you need?”

Azula turned, and she nearly gasped. That face, so similar yet so different from how she remembered it—somehow fuller, plainer, and thousand times more open. Those lips still pursed together like petals on a budding flower. Azula was bitter and delicate and finally facing her, after days of dreading and planning and waiting.

“There are lots of things I need,” Azula snapped, “but your sympathy is not one of them.”

“My apologies. I only meant to make this less…painful for you.”

At that, the skin around her eyes softened, and her bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly.

“Is my brother—?”

“No,” Katara rushed out, her hand reaching towards her.

“You’re the first visitor I’ve had in four and a half months,” Azula said. “I could only hope to expect news of a funeral.”

“Zuko’s fine. He’s more than fine. In fact, he’s engaged. You remember Sokka? My brother?”

“You mean he’s—” Azula lowered her head, arms crossed. “He never told me. Never wrote.”

Katara’s gaze flicked to the pile of letters on the table. How many had Azula actually sent? Zuko had never mentioned her writing to him, not even once. And when Sokka had proposed, he’d written Azula a short, forgiving letter, asking for her blessing, even if Zuko didn’t care what she thought. Even if she would never be allowed to attend the wedding.

“I’m sorry,” Katara whispered.

“For the second and final time, I don’t want your pity. Tell me why you’re here.”

After all this time. Katara jerked her head towards the couches in the central open area, and Azula sighed.

“I’ll make you some tea,” Azula said, “if it’ll get you out of my house quicker.”

Her voice caught on the word house; She gazes up at the rafters, eyes empty and tired. Katara couldn’t imagine what it would be like to spend five long years in the same exact place. At this point, it felt like the whole world was her home; she’d bounced back and forth between the Southern Water Tribe, Zuko’s palace, the burgeoning piece of land that was soon to become Republic City. Thinking about waking up to the same four walls every single day made her knees weak.

Azula set a kettle of tea boiling, her fingers shaking as she did it. Her brow furrowed as she turned the burned up higher and higher, almost enraged by the orange circle of heat.

“It must be hard to get used to,” Katara said. “No bending, I mean.”

Azula slumped a little, bangs in her face.

“You couldn’t even wrap your simple mind around it,” she muttered. “It’s a missing limb. An aching reminder of everything I’m not.”

Katara bit her lip, but she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out what she was thinking.

“Then what are you now, Princess Azula?” Katara asked.

The words struck Azula just as she began to pour the piping hot tea into little cups, liquid splashing everywhere as she trembled for a moment. Her hair once again swung to hide her face.

“Lonely,” she said. “I’m lonely.”

Katara knew the feeling. Somehow, even surrounded by her friends, right in the middle of the action, she was an ocean away from anyone else. The only thing that had ever brought her back from that place was Aang’s hand on her shoulder. But now they were through, and Katara was left alone in every crowded room with her anger and her shame. Every time the moon rose full in the sky. Every time she thought of her mother.

Every time she remembered wild, painfully young Azula tied to a grate. Breathing flames she knew would never hit their targets.

“I came to ask you for information,” Katara said slowly, rising to take the teacup from Azula’s unsteady hands. “It’s come to our attention that there’s been a Fire Nation insurrection—people who are still loyal to you.”

“Of course they are. Zu-zu’s never been a people person; he doesn’t know how to talk people into switching sides.”

“They’ve been working underground for years, trying to retake the nation one painful inch at a time. They say they’re…retracing your steps. Finishing what you started.”  
“Which part?” Azula let out a razor-sharp laugh. “Conquering cities in one fell swoop? Nearly killing the Avatar? Or going stark-raving mad?”

“You hardly seem like you’re raving,” Katara said.

“I screamed myself out a long time ago. Funny thing, what isolation does to you.”

Katara tensed up beside her, a pang in her chest. The acid-tongued villainess she’d once known, once reviled, was wilting away and giving form to someone new. If only she didn’t have to suffer so damn much.

“Do you think you know where they’d be hiding? Where they’re getting their weapons?” Katara oh-so-carefully laid a hand on Azula’s shoulder. As if stricken, Azula seized up in place, overcome by the sheer sensation of someone touching her. Who knew how long it had been since that had happened.

“If you help us, I could talk Zuko into loosening your sentence,” Katara said.

“Zuko won’t ever forgive me,” said Azula with a soft flinch. “And he certainly won’t let me out, much less see my face again. So, Katara, I’ll settle for you.”

Katara’s eyes widened. Azula had never, not once, called her by her actual name; it had always been “peasant” or “girl.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you everything I know,” Azula said, a hand covering Katara’s. “Every scrapped plan, every meeting place. Anything you need. All that I ask is that you keep coming back. To see me.”

“Why?” Katara whispered. “After everything we’ve done to each other? You should hate me.”

_I should hate you._

“Because you know my brother. You love my brother. You’re family.” Azula practically spat out the word. “And you see my—you spend time with Ty Lee. I might not ever be able to ask their forgiveness, but at least I have you to tell me about them. I can know that they’ve both moved past…this.”

Azula waved her hands at the room around them, at herself. Katara swallowed the lump in her throat, squeezing Azula’s hand once. The look of relief on the other girl’s face was heartbreaking.

“I’ll do it,” Katara said.

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

The phrase sounded less and less like a threat the more she said it. Katara sighed.

“I know.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the wedding, Katara couldn’t move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything without thinking of Azula’s anguished face as she left for the Southern Water Tribe. Without her, after all those months. Coming home again after so long was paralyzing, especially after she realized she wouldn’t see Azula for a month. She wondered if the dark emotion curling its fingers into her was guilt or pity or misplaced pining—after all, Aang was officiating the wedding, and watching him at ease with all of their friends should have sent her reeling. Should have sent her back into his arms without a second thought. 
> 
> But it didn’t. She stayed an arm’s length away from him, letting what they had die. For good this time.

In the three months that passed since Katara had started visiting Azula, the damp Fire Nation spring had settled into a brutal, blossoming summer, and she hadn’t thought about Aang in weeks. Despite Azula’s abrasiveness, Katara was enjoying their weekly meetings more and more every time she found herself knocking on the door. Brief, formal exchanges gave way to comfortable silences, quiet moments filled with the clink of spoons against teacups and the light chatter of the cicada-hoppers outside. On good days, when Azula wasn’t trembling or lashing out, they would sit outside in the carefully protected garden. When Katara had approached Toph about adding one, she’d acted like the water bender was insane.

“What, you think a nice rose patch and a wisteria trellis will make Princess Crazypants all better?” Toph’s blind eyes had widened.

“No,” Katara snapped. “I just know if I were imprisoned, I would want a little fresh air.”

So Toph had built smooth stone walls around a sizable patch of wild behind the house-cell, and Azula had spent the last few weeks watching her seeds sprout with a contentment Katara hadn’t expected.

“If you had told me five years ago that I would have enjoyed being _outside_ in the _dirt_ , I would have killed you and hid the body where no one would ever find it.”

“It’s amazing how time and the elements have humbled you, your highness,” Katara said dryly, arm draped over her eyes as she laid in the sun. “So peaceful. So modest.”

Azula gave a small, indignant sound just left of a snort—but of course, she was still too proper for that.

“My edge has dulled, hasn’t it?” She sighed. “I can’t even rely on my razor-sharp wit anymore. I haven’t had anyone to flay with it.”

“Flay away,” Katara mumbled, already half-asleep in the warm embrace of the summer heat.

“You’re too easy a target. See, if your little bald simpleton were here, I could—”

“He’s not my _anything_.” Katara hated the edge in her voice, but she couldn’t help herself. “And he’s not so little anymore.”

“So I take it the insults might be appreciated,” Azula said, a small smirk on her face.

“I don’t hate him or anything.” Katara rolled over to meet her gaze. “It just didn’t work out. Wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“I struck him with lightning and you saved him single-handedly,” she murmured. “I knew from the way you looked at him that you loved hard and fierce. I knew from the way you looked at me that you’d sink ships and lay waste to armies to just save the ones you love. If he let go of someone like that, it was entirely his fault.”

Katara wanted to protest, but she knew she’d be lying. She would’ve killed a dozen men if it meant Aang would be safe.

She would’ve killed hundreds.

“You have more than a little darkness in you,” Azula said, face turned away. “I can feel it. I felt it when you beat me.”

“And you still can’t stand that I won,” Katara said, acutely aware of the blood pumping fast and hard through her veins. “Can you?”

Azula’s smile widened, sharpened, sent a shiver down Katara’s spine.

“But darling, that’s why we get along so well.”

Something warm and sinful woke up inside Katara’s skin. She felt a desire tugging in her chest that she hadn’t felt before, and she viciously tried to tamp it down. She almost took out her water-skin and doused herself, but instead, she shook her head.

“We get along because it’s convenient. End of story.”

“You must be busy,” Azula mused, taking off her gloves. “Aren’t you the world’s greatest healer? Aren’t you the daughter of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? And yet you still find hours to spend with me every week, all for…what? Information I’m more than willing to give?”

Convenient. There was nothing convenient about the way Azula’s gaze was burning holes into her, nothing convenient about how their hands barely brushed when Katara sat up to glare at her. It was true that Azula had been cooperative, giving her all the supply stations and coordinates of possible hideouts. She’d even managed to provide information about Ty Lee’s less savory relatives that even Ty Lee herself hadn’t been able to give. So why was Katara still here, basking in a garden she’d begged Toph for, planting flowers with a woman who’d nearly murdered her?

“Don’t try to twist this into something it’s not,” Katara said finally. “Besides, Zuko’s wedding is in a few days. I’ll be home visiting Sokka and my father for a month. My schedule’s not _that_ pliable.”

At that, Azula’s composure crumpled as if Katara had kicked her in the ribs. Her hands knitted back and forth together in a nervous, soothing gesture Katara had come to know well over the past few months.

“If you get the chance, tell Zu-zu I’m sorry,” Azula said. “I wish—I wish more than anything that I could be there.”

Katara stiffened.

“There was a time when you wanted nothing more than to watch him die,” she growled.

“There was a time,” Azula said, “when you wanted to watch Zuko die, too.”

“He’s not my brother.”

“No.” Azula scrubbed a hand across her face—had she been crying? “But he will be soon. I just hope he’s happy now. Sokka, too. For whatever that’s worth.”

  
Even though Katara wanted to stomp out of the house and slam the door behind her, it really was worth a lot. Instead, she nodded and let their exchange slip back into a too-comfortable silence.

_For whatever that’s worth._

Like Azula owed her.

* * *

  
The night before the wedding, Katara couldn’t move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything without thinking of Azula’s anguished face as she left for the Southern Water Tribe. Without her, after all those months. Coming home again after so long was paralyzing, especially after she realized she wouldn’t see Azula for a month. She wondered if the dark emotion curling its fingers into her was guilt or pity or misplaced pining—after all, Aang was officiating the wedding, and watching him at ease with all of their friends should have sent her reeling. Should have sent her back into his arms without a second thought.

But it didn’t. She stayed an arm’s length away from him, letting what they had die. For good this time.

Toph conquered the admirable feat of being the best man of both grooms; the toasts were slapping-the-table hilarious, complete with the cheesiest gay jokes possible and a knowing jab about their nerves.

“I mean, just look at Sparky over there,” Toph said, beaming. “All of his blood just rushed to his cheeks, folks. The oogies are real.”

Katara had never seen her brother so look vividly happy before, tugging at his ceremonial cloak and casting nervous glances at his husband-to-be. It made her heart ache for reasons she couldn’t name. When they had their first kiss as married men, Sokka dipped Zuko so low that his raven hair swept the floor, and despite the corniness, everyone in the room was moved to tears. Zuko didn’t stop smiling the entire night unless Sokka was pressing their lips together.

Azula resurfaced in Katara’s mind. _I just hope he’s happy. Sokka, too._

_If you get the chance, tell Zu-zu I’m sorry._

Katara spent the night dancing with Suki and Toph, but even they were enamored with each other in a way that made her insides clench. She couldn’t help but notice the way Suki brushed her hair behind her ear when Toph spoke to her, how they were angled towards each other like magnets at all times.

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” Katara couldn’t help but tease Toph as they refilled their drinks.

The earth bender shrugged, an effortless smile leaving her before she could stifle it.

“Shit happens, sugar queen,” Toph said. “Suki’s just…Suki. I’m just going with the flow. You should really try it sometime.”

At that, Katara no longer wanted her wine—the room was spinning as it was. She stumbled away from Toph, trying to catch her breath, eyes drawn to every empty space in the room where Azula could have been. She heard Toph speaking distantly behind her.

“Did I say something wrong?”

The words echoed in her head as she stumbled out into the night air, if only for a moment.

A few nights later, Sokka found her kneeling over a pile of crumpled papers, hands trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

“Katara?” he said softly. “Katara, you ok?”

Katara just stifled a sob with the heel of her hand.

Zuko came stumbling in after him, drawn to the sound of crying like a sympathetic puppy. When he caught sight of her curled up on the study floor, the candle burnt to its end, he exchanged a worried glance with Sokka over her shoulder. Slowly, they both sank down on either side of her, arms around her as she cried. Katara buried her face in Sokka’s shoulder, letting Zuko awkwardly but comfortingly stroke her hair.

“Is it Aang?” Sokka asked. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he just officiated my wedding.”

“I’ll hold him down,” Zuko added, his voice so serious Katara almost laughed.

“I’m trying to tell her,” she said, a lump in her throat. “I’m trying to tell her about all the things she missed. I just can’t write it well enough.”

Zuko made a small noise in the back of his throat, and his grip tightened around her shoulder. Sokka’s mouth tightened into a worried line.

“She nearly killed us, Katara,” Zuko said after a long moment. “When I think back to that night…I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself if anything had happened to you. Do you understand that?”

Sokka gently lifted her to her feet, thumbs brushing away her stray tears. She wobbled—she had no idea how long she’d been up. Judging by the sleepy circles around Sokka’s eyes, it had been awhile.

“Do you hate her?” she asked. “Even a little?”

Zuko lowered his head.

“No,” he whispered. “Not even a little.”

“Should we?”

Sokka turned her towards him, making her look reluctantly into his eyes.

“Listen to me, for once in your life,” he said. “It’s not your job to fix her, Katara. It’s not your job to fix anyone. You aren’t obligated to hate, but you aren’t obligated to forgive, either.”

Even after all these months going to see Azula, lying on her couch, making tea with her, Katara still wasn’t ready to forgive her completely.

But maybe with time she could.

And with the way the Fire Princess’s amber eyes made her nerve endings tingle with some unnamed feeling, maybe that time was sooner rather than later.

  
So Katara trudged to her room, hanging onto the two men she loved most in the world, and let them take care of her. She kept her last draft crumpled in her fist.  
Soon.


End file.
